Rigor Mortis
by Smexi-MnM's
Summary: Medea Baratheon finds herself captured by a young man claiming to be Aegon Targaryen - but he wants her alive, and his plans involve getting himself an heir. Tyana Cassel finds herself growing dangerously close to a childhood friend. Fire and ice will collide, and two girls will learn the value of holding on to all they hold dear. Aegon/OC; Robb/OC
1. Cold Winds Rising

**Chapter One: Cold Winds Rising**

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**A/N: Hey everyone! Originally this was up with the OC of Elaena Targaryen, but instead of her you'll be reading about Tyana Cassel :) Medea Baratheon is still present, but the beginning has changed :) Hope you enjoy!**

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Medea Baratheon did not like Winterfell. It was far too cold for her liking. She far preferred the south, where she could wear thin fabrics that fluttered about her, silks of blues and greens and many colours. In the north, they all had to wear furs, and she found herself shivering and quite miserable in this environment. Her father was, there was no other way to put it diplomatically, quite fat. He probably didn't even _feel_ the cold.

Her gaze raked over the Starks. Ned Stark looked older than his years, but perhaps the cold had aged him – or his five children had. Despite her age, Catelyn Stark was a lovely woman, although not quite as beautiful as Cersei. Nonetheless, she had the Tully elegance that many of her children also seemed to possess. Medea found her eyes drifting to the five legitimate Stark children.

The oldest, Robb, was perhaps a year her elder, and indeed very handsome. He had dark hair, but his mother's blue eyes. Robb kissed her hand politely and she offered him a small smile. Sansa was next, with the same Tully beauty that her mother possessed. She seemed gracious and charming, offering Medea a shy greeting. Arya was next, a wild little thing that resembled a boy more than a girl. The younger two were Bran and Rickon, and to Medea, they were just children.

"Don't trust the Starks," Cersei had whispered to Medea constantly on their venture north. Her own family, the Lannisters, had never exactly been close with the Starks. Cersei claimed they had been ungrateful about the intervention of her father, Tywin, and displeased about the fact that her twin brother Jaime had killed the mad Aerys Targaryen. The rest of the Targaryens had been similarly disposed of.

Medea wondered if her father had brought her north because he wanted her to marry Robb. She had complained bitterly about having to accompany them, claiming that she was sixteen now and she should be able to stay in King's Landing if she liked. No doubt Robert thought Robb would simply be attracted to her. Many often claimed Medea to be a beauty, but she didn't really care if she was pretty or not, because men would want her simply because she was her father's oldest child. Any man who married her would be powerful indeed.

"You look cold, my sweet." Cersei draped an arm around her daughter's shoulders, glancing sharply at Robert as he exited the crypt with Ned Stark. "Robert, your children are going to catch a chill if we don't get them inside."

"Yes, yes, woman," Robert sounded impatient. He'd been visiting the grave of Lyanna, which no doubt prickled at Cersei's nerves. He was still in love with a ghost, a woman who hadn't existed since before Medea had even been born.

Cersei smiled sweetly at Medea. "Go with your ladies, darling girl. I'll fetch you later for the feast. Although the gods only know what these northerners call a celebration…I don't doubt it will be vulgar."

* * *

Tyana Cassel sat sipping a wine. The celebrations whirled around her in an array of bleak and dull colours. Her dark hair spilled over her shoulders, left unbraided, framing her face and blending with her equally dark eyes. She wasn't used to seeing so many people dancing and laughing in Winterfell, but she knew it was a special occasion.

As she finished her wine, she rose to her feet, glancing around the room for familiar faces. Her eyes strayed to Robb, who was talking and laughing at a table across the room from her. She made her way towards him, feeling uncomfortable in the dark green dress she wore. Lady Stark had insisted she wear it, much to her displeasure. She was not used to dresses and it made her feel vulnerable and restricted.

"Hello, Tyana." Robb greeted, smiling at her as he noticed her.

"Robb." Tyana sat down beside him, brushing her long hair behind her ear.

Robb looked his friend up and down, taking in her attire. He wasn't used to seeing her dressed the way she was, although he admittedly thought the dress showed her slight curves. "You're wearing a dress tonight."

"Your mother requested it." Tyana made a face, showing her annoyance, making Robb chuckle.

* * *

Medea wandered aimlessly through the congregation, thinking perhaps it had been a mistake to leave the high table after all. Her mother had stubbornly insisted on her wearing her hair up in the southern style. Her blue dress matched her eyes and clung to her curvaceous form – something Cersei had always insisted upon her accentuating.

"You have a woman's body," Cersei had been saying since Medea had been about fourteen, "You have breasts and hips, _use_ them."

Use them how? Medea had often wondered. It was a question she'd never truly discovered the answer to. She noticed the Stark's ward, the young Greyjoy man, making a beeline for her. He was apparently a notorious flirt, who frequented the brothels, but nonetheless, Medea was a Princess and she must be polite.

"Theon, is it?" she inquired.

"Yes." His eyes raked over her none too modestly. "And you are the lovely Medea, I presume?"

She wanted to tell him he presumed too much. "Just Medea. You are a ward here, yes?"

"Correct." Theon continued to inspect Medea, offering her a grin. "You have lovely eyes."

"Why thank you," Medea replied dryly, thinking he used the word 'lovely' too generously, "Are you flirting with me?"

"Is it working?" Theon questioned, sounding rather pleased with himself.

"Not really," Medea admitted, glancing at a dark-haired girl who approached them. Medea wasn't sure of her name, but she was tall and slim and raised her eyebrows coolly at Theon, indicating that the two knew each other.

"Theon, are you pestering our guest?" The girl asked.

Theon mocked horror. "Of course not."

"He's harmless," Medea stated with a smile. She noticed Robb glancing over at them and immediately averted her gaze. She didn't want to be caught staring at him. However, he seemed to have noticed, for he walked over and shook his head at Theon.

"Is he flirting?"

Theon smirked. "Of course I am."

The dark-haired girl smiled. "I'm Tyana Cassel."

"Medea Baratheon," the Princess responded.

"You are terrible," Robb informed Theon, before turning his gaze upon Medea. "Do you want me to make him leave?"

Medea smiled a little. "He's alright. I've had worse."

Tyana couldn't help herself as she continued to adjust her dress. It was uncomfortable and heavy and she wanted nothing but to take it off. Robb glanced at her, raising an eyebrow as he watched her tugging at the neckline, which already showed a fair amount of cleavage Robb thought.

"What are you doing, Tyana?"

"I don't like dresses." Tyana looked at him, her hands still adjusting the dress as she tried to become as comfortable as possible, making Theon hold in laughter as he watched her.

"Relax." Robb shook his head, unable to help his smile.

"Can't help it. Have you seen my uncle?" Tyana questioned, glancing around for her uncles familiar face.

Robb looked around before answering, "Over at the drinks I think."

Tyana nodded and said a few more words to the others before walking off in search of her uncle. She felt uncomfortable in the room. There were too many people for her liking and most of them were strangers to her. She made her way to the drinks table, watching as her uncles' friends moved away from him upon her arrival, alerting him of her presence.

Jory looked at his niece, noting that she looked like a proper lady for once. "Tyana."

"Uncle." Tyana smiled, grabbing a goblet of wine.

"Are you well?" Jory asked her, sipping his own wine.

Tyana shrugged her shoulders slightly, "Well enough. I hope you are not drinking too much."

Jory ginned at her, finishing his wine. "But of course not."

"Good." Tyana grinned, her eyes flashing with mischief.

* * *

"How are you liking the north?" Theon inquired of Medea once Robb and Tyana had gone their separate ways. She wondered what it would be like to be Tyana, growing up with only really boys her age for company.

"It's cold," Medea confessed.

Theon smirked. "Perhaps a man would help you keep warm."

"Oh?" Medea pretended innocence, but she knew precisely what he meant. "How so?"

Theon winked. "I'm sure you know."

Medea nodded and feigned consideration. "Perhaps I should ask my dear father and see what he thinks of your proposition."

Theon's grin immediately faded. "I thought he brought you here for a reason."

"And that reason was to let you between my legs?" Medea asked icily, causing Theon to shrug. He noticed her glance at Robb and immediately thought it would be better to leave the Princess to the heir of Winterfell.

"I'll leave you two alone."


	2. Make Us Whole

**Chapter Two: Make Us Whole**

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**A/N: A big thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, favourited and followed the first chapter! Here's the next :)**

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Medea wandered into her father's rooms, wondering why she had been summoned. It was true that Robert often favoured her, his oldest child, the girl who looked like a young and female version of himself. Looking at the King now, his protruding belly, tired eyes and coarse beard, she found it hard to see how her father had ever been attractive. It was rather sad. She watched as he picked up his goblet.

"You wanted to see me?"

"I did." Robert took a sip of his wine and inspected his daughter. She was indeed a pretty thing, of good height and possessing a woman's curves. She was of a ripe age for bearing children, and the time had come to marry Medea into an honourable family. "I have found someone for you to marry. I am betrothing you to Robb Stark."

"Robb?" Medea repeated, stiffening slightly. She barely even knew the boy, although she should have expected that her parents would come up with some sort of betrothal. Although Cersei would disapprove, Robert would bully her into a cold silence.

"Yes." Robert took another sip of his wine. Seven hells, the north was cold. He wondered how his Medea would cope in the north. However, he had seen that Robb was a kind-hearted young man, and knew that being raised by Ned meant that the boy would certainly treat his daughter with the respect she deserved. "The two of you will make a fine match."

"Father, he is…" Medea bit her lip. "He does not feel for me in that way."

"Marriage is not always due to love," Robert said gruffly. He had had a chance at love once, with Lyanna Stark. But that was many years ago now, and Lyanna was long dead. Instead he had Cersei, a woman who seemed to hate him with a passion.

"Yes, you and mother are a fine example of that," Medea responded bitterly.

"You are to marry him," Robert stated sternly, seeing the resistance rising within his oldest daughter. "I will hear no more of it."

Medea tried one last tactic. "But, Daddy…"

"Enough, Medea." Robert took on the firm tone that he often used on Cersei, when he had no wish to have his commands questioned. "You will marry him when you are eighteen."

"So you would leave me in the north?" Medea exclaimed. She wondered what exactly she had done to earn such a fate. Robb was by no means a horrible man, but the two were practically strangers. She found herself wishing her mother was present, in order to contradict Robert, but even Cersei could not convince the King otherwise.

"You should be pleased." Robert frowned at her, surveying her over the rim of his goblet. "Ned Stark is a respectable man, you should be happy that you will be wed into his family – and to a boy not much older than you. Many girls marry old men."

"I know they do," Medea responded acidly, planting her hands on her hips. "I just thought that I may have had more of a chance to decide for myself."

* * *

Robb Stark waited rather nervously in the courtyard, Theon standing beside him. He would have been fine with escorting the Princess around Winterfell, if not for the fact that his father had informed him only that morning about his discussion with Robert Baratheon. Apparently, Medea and Robb were betrothed, and would be married once Medea had reached her eighteenth name-day.

"What do you think of her?" Robb questioned of Theon. The older boy was very familiar with girls, so he could be trusted for an honest opinion of the Princess.

"Medea?" Theon asked, causing Robb to nod in affirmation. "She seems nice."

Robb raked a hand through his hair. He needed more than a girl who was simply 'nice'. The thought that he would be marrying the daughter of the most powerful man in Westeros was more than slightly daunting.

"Just nice?"

Theon grinned. "She's pretty."

Robb sighed heavily. "Father says she is to be my wife."

"She is sweet." Theon laughed. The Princess was an attractive girl, and there was no doubting she had a certain wit about her, too. "You will have no issues with her."

Robb certainly hoped not. He knew that he didn't have any semblance of feelings for the girl – yes, as Theon had said, she _was_ pretty – but then so was Cersei, and Robb had seen how cold her eyes remained as she smiled. He prayed that Medea was a more warm-hearted person than her mother.

* * *

Tyana watched as Medea fiddled with her hair. She didn't understand why the girl was spending so much time on her hair when she didn't need to. She was already beautiful. Tyana couldn't help but envy the girl a little. She had beautiful bright eyes and long dark hair.

"Come on, Medea." Tyana pressed, not wanting to have to put up with watching Medea continue to fix herself for any longer.

Medea didn't look away from what she was doing. "Just a moment..."

Tyana nodded, letting out a small sigh as she leant against the doorframe, continuing to watch as Medea fixed a clip in the braid in her long hair.

"Done." Medea spun around, smiling at Tyana as she walked over towards the door.

Tyana nodded, straightening up and glancing around. "Good."

"Shall we?" Medea asked, gesturing towards the door.

Tyana didn't say anything else to the Princess, instead choosing to lead her down to the others quietly. She had no desire to talk to the other girl. She doubted they would have much in common, therefore making their conversations dull and boring.

"Medea. Tyana." If the Princess wasn't wrong, she could sense a hint of nervousness in Robb – but, why? Was this to do with their changed circumstances? Theon looked between them and smirked, clearly far more at ease.

"Ladies."

"Robb. Theon." Tyana replied, in the same sort of tone that Robb had implemented.

"Medea, has your father told you?" Robb turned his attention on the Princess, who gnawed at her lip.

"About the engagement?" His nod answered her question. "Yes."

Tyana was puzzled. "What engagement?"

"Father says Medea and I are to marry." Robb averted his eyes, unable to meet his friend's gaze. He should have told her before, but now it seemed as though things between he and Medea were some kind of secret.

"Oh. Congratulations." Tyana offered him a tight smile. "You two would make a good match."

Medea inclined her head. "Thank you."

"Shall we walk?" Robb immediately stepped forward, hesitantly taking his betrothed's arm. He would have to get used to this sort of contact, and much more, if he was to be comfortable around Medea by the time they married.

"My Uncle has duties for me to attend to. I'll see you tonight." Tyana told them before wandering off, raking her hair out of her face.

She made her way down towards the armoury, glancing around Winterfell. She was a little surprised about the betrothal, but she knew it made sense. She was curious as to how Medea would react to living in the north. Tyana had never been to the south, but she had heard it was very different both in culture and weather.

"Tyana?" Tyana looked up from her hand as she heard her uncle say her name.

"Uncle." Tyana greeted, grabbing one of the swords.

Jory raised an eyebrow, turning to face her. "I thought you were walking with Robb and Theon?"

"I was. I thought it best Robb have some alone time with his betrothed." Tyana told him, unable to help the bitterness that seeped into her tone.

Jory gave her a confused look, "His what?"

"He's engaged to Medea Baratheon." Tyana thought Jory would've known already.

"Oh. She's a nice girl." Jory nodded, watching his niece carefully.

Tyana nodded. She had spoken to the Princess on more than one occasion and she knew the girl to be nice. She knew that Robb would be happy in the marriage, after all, Medea was beautiful and kind. "I know. "

"Are you alright?" Jory asked, knowing that Tyana spent most of her time with either Robb and Theon, or Jon, depending on who was around.

Tyana forced a smile, which didn't quite reach her eyes. "I am. I just thought I could train a little."

* * *

"Medea, how much of Winterfell have you seen?" Theon inquired as they ventured about the small town. Medea kept hugging her cloak tighter around her, unaccustomed to winter's chill. She supposed she would have to get used to it, considering that one day, she would be Lady of Winterfell.

"Not a lot," she confessed.

Theon glanced at Robb. "Where's Snow? I haven't seen him around much."

"Mother doesn't want him around a lot," Robb replied, his tone making it clear that he was uncomfortable with revealing said information. The surname 'Snow' sounded familiar to Medea, but she couldn't quite place it.

"Why not? Who is Snow?"

"Lord Stark's bastard," Theon stated, in a tone that made it clear that he and Jon were not the closest of friends. He noted Medea's slightly embarrassed silence. "What do you think of everyone you've met so far?"

"Everyone is kind," Medea responded, before her blue eyes glittered and a mischievous smile played about her lips. "Apart from you, Theon. You flirt too much."

"He won't do it anymore," Robb assured his betrothed, darting a steely glance at Theon, who stopped chuckling and made himself look contrite. Of course, he knew that it wouldn't do well at all to flirt with Robb's intended.

"No. I won't."

* * *

Tyana's breaths came in heavy pants as she slashed at the dummy in front of her with a sword. She was so concentrated on the sound of her sword hitting the dummy that she didn't realise her uncle had walked over to her. She just had so many frustrations and so much stress running through her that she found this the only way to relieve any of it.

"Tyana." Jory greeted, seemingly snapping her out of whatever state of mind she had been in.

Tyana lowered her sword, turning to face her uncle. "Uncle."

"You know that some of Lord Starks household are going south, don't you?" Jory spoke with a tone of worry, he was unsure if she knew and if she didn't, he didn't know how she was going to react. He knew his niece was not one to list surprises of any kind.

Tyana nodded, she had heard from Jon that his father was going south. "I am aware of that. I assume you are going?"

"Yes. You're to accompany us." Jory told her, watching as he eyes widened in surprise.

"What? Why?" Tyana exclaimed, not understanding why her uncle would want her to accompany them to the south.

"The capital will do you good" Jory watched as she let out a heavy sigh. He had known she wouldn't be happy with this, but her also knew that he couldn't leave her in Winterfell.

"Can I not stay here? Robb will be here." She pointed out, knowing that Robb would be staying behind to care for Winterfell while Lord Stark was in the south.

Jory shook his head. "We may find you a match in the capital."

"I do not want to marry a southerner." Tyana mumbled, walking back towards the armoury to put her sword away, Jory following her.

Jory put his arm around his niece, kissing the top of her head. "Sometimes we have to do things we don't want to."

"I know." Tyana leant her head on his shoulder.

"Besides, you may become more of a lady." Jory grinned, earning a laugh from Tyana.

"That is something that will never happen."

* * *

Medea braided her hair clumsily, not even realising that Cersei had entered her room until her mother stepped behind her. Cersei ran her fingers nimbly through her daughter's sleek dark hair, easily working it into a complex braid. Medea smiled a little. It had been some since her mother had shown any such demonstration of affection.

"How is the betrothal?" Cersei inquired. "Is Stark being kind?"

Medea nearly nodded, but then remembered her hair. "He is very sweet."

Cersei frowned slightly. "Perhaps too sweet."

"What do you mean?" Medea asked, turning to face her mother as Cersei finished off the braid. Although she did not have feelings for Robb, she did think he had a very kind heart, and he was most gentlemanly towards her.

"Never mind." Cersei shook her head. "You aren't staying in the north. You're coming back to the capital."

Medea frowned slightly. "Why is this?"

"I want you home until you are of age," Cersei replied simply, but Medea knew that even such a simple sentiment was the result of many hours of arguing between her parents.

"Alright, Mother." Medea ran a hand over her braid. The Queen seemed to do everything perfectly. Medea tried to be graceful, but sometimes she slipped up. Cersei's façade was flawless. "Did Father agree to this?"

"He did." Cersei watched her daughter carefully, as Medea nodded mutely but would not meet her gaze. "Are you not pleased?"

"I am," Medea insisted. She would like to spend as much as time as possible with her family before she ventured back north to marry Robb. Cersei had been around the eighteen when she married Robert, or close enough to.

"I did not want you to marry a northerner." Cersei sighed heavily, playing with a strand of her daughter's dark hair, so like her father's. "I was sure I could find a better match. A southerner."

"Like Loras Tyrell?" Medea inquired. She had heard the name whispered eagerly around King's Landing for the past year or so, although she had never met the young man herself. "Everyone says he is very handsome."

Cersei couldn't quite help but smile. Loras Tyrell was undeserving of her daughter. "He is."

* * *

Tyana raked a hand through her hair, pulling it from its braids as she walked through the godswood. She glanced around, noticing Robb sitting a few paces away from her, examining his sword. She smiled to herself as she watched him before she made her mind up to go over to him. She hadn't been talking to him as much as she usually would as of late. Now that she was leaving to go south, she wanted to talk to him as much as she could.

"Tyana." Robb smiled as he looked up, noticing his friend approaching him.

"Robb." Tyana greeted as she sat down beside him, her dark hair, now loose from its confines, framing her face.

Robb put his sword away, examining his friend. "Are you well? You have been quiet of late."

"Well enough. Uncle wants me to go south with him and your father." Tyana informed him, knowing that Lord Stark wouldn't have told him that she was leaving to go with them.

"Oh." Robb raked a hand through his hair, her hadn't expected her to be leaving to go south.

"We leave on the morrow." Tyana got to her feet, watching as Robb got to his as well.

"So I suppose this is goodbye for now." Robb stated, upset to know that his friend was leaving.  
Tyana nodded, knowing it would be a while before they next saw each other. Robb hugged his friend close, burying his face in her hair. Tyana hugged back a little stiffly. She was still cautious around Robb due to the engagement, but she felt herself relax a little into his embrace.

"I will miss you." Robb murmured into her ear, still holding her close.

"Perhaps not for long. You will have a wife soon enough." Tyana drew back from him, kissing his cheek.

Robb couldn't help but laugh a little nervously. "I wouldn't know what to do with one."

"You'll be alright. Medea is sweet." Tyana pointed out, from what she knew of the Princess, she would make a good wife.

Robb nodded thoughtfully, but he knew that people could change. "Perhaps now she is."

"It is part of her personality. Why do you not wish to marry her? She is beautiful." Tyana pointed out. Medea's beauty was no secret to anyone.

"Beauty isn't everything. Her mother is beautiful but cold."


	3. Matchmaking

**Chapter Three: Matchmaking**

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**A/N: Hey guys :) So Aegon and Robb won't be in for a little while, but there's a lot of important stuff that's got to happen in King's Landing ;) Hope you enjoy this chapter.**

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Tyana looked up at the moon as she sat in the godswood, the landscape looking eerie in the light of the moon as it filtered through the gaps in the tree. She let out a long sigh, watching as he breath condensed in the air, turning into a fine cloud of mist before dissipating. Her fingers found the pendant clasped around her neck. It had been her mothers and Tyana often found herself fiddling with it.

She leant back against a tree, closing her eyes as she immersed herself in the sounds of the night. It was a calming feeling. She'd always loved the night, even though many found it to be frightening. Tyana opened one eye as she felt something soft against her hand, realising it to be Grey Winds fur. She smiled, running her fingers through the direwolf's coat.

"Tyana." Robb greeted, trailing after Grey Wind.

Tyana offered him a smile, one that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Robb."

"Why are you out here?" Robb asked, sitting down beside her.

"I couldn't sleep." Tyana explained. It was the truth, ever since the southerners had arrived in Winterfell, Tyana had felt uneasy by their presence.

Robb nodded, knowing what it felt like to have little sleep. He glanced at his childhood friend, putting an arm around her as she shivered due to the cool breeze that was beginning to gently blow around them. As Tyana felt Robb put his arm around her, she couldn't but tense a little. She had been avoiding him since his engagement, unsure of how to act. Robb felt her tense under his touch, drawing his arm back.

"Sorry."

Tyana looked down at her hands. "Its fine."

"It makes you uncomfortable." Robb observed, watching his friend carefully.

Tyana glanced around, listening to the breeze that rustled the leaves of the trees surrounding them. "Only because of recent events."

Robb couldn't help the confusion that he was feeing. "What do you mean?"

"Your betrothed." Tyana explained, getting to her feet, the wind whipping her hair into her face.

Robb sighed heavily. He knew that his betrothal to Medea was likely to cause issues, he just didn't expect or understand why Tyana of all people was so hostile. "I know, but that doesn't change that you're my friend."

"It changes how we can act around each other." Tyana told him, knowing he knew what she was saying was true. "We shouldn't act so… friendly. You don't want people to think that you're betraying your betrothed."

"No one would think that." Robb got to his feet as well, watching Tyana.

Ty shook her head, wishing that he could be more observant. "There are some who would."

Robb watched her with concern in his blue eyes. "What's wrong?"

"A lot of things are wrong, Robb. Yet I have no power to fix them." Ty told him, her voice becoming strained.

Robb stepped towards her before wrapping his arms around her in a strong embrace, holding her close against his body. Ty remained stiff for a moment before wrapping her arms around her childhood friend. She was going to miss him while she was in the south. That was one of the reasons she didn't want to marry a southerner, all her friends and memories lived in Winterfell.

Robb drew away from Ty, his hand still on her shoulder in a comforting gesture. Before either of them could completely comprehend what was happening, Robb had pressed his lips to Tyana's, who stiffened in surprise. As Robb pulled her closer, Tyana began to move her lips with his, her fingers tangling in his hair, prompting a groan from his mouth. Robb's lips trailed from Ty's mouth down along her neck, sending sparks of pleasure throughout her body.

Robb suddenly drew away from her, casting his eyes to the ground. "I'm sorry."

Tyana shook her head, fighting back the pain she was feeling. "Don't be. I'm going to go back to my room."

Tyana turned away from him, walking back towards her room. She felt guilty for acting so hostile, but she was unsure of how she should've acted towards him. She glanced over her shoulder at the godswood before walking into the main hall, headed for her room.

* * *

In truth, Medea thought she was rather glad to be leaving Winterfell for the time being. They had been there a month, but the tension between the Lannisters and the Starks had risen, and it was so thick that it was almost a tangible thing. After Bran had fallen from a tower whilst climbing, things hadn't quite been the same. Everywhere Medea went, hostile Stark eyes would follow her. Robb was kind enough, but there was even some friction developing between the two of them.

Her blue eyes sought out Tyana Cassel, who was busy preparing her horse. She wasn't entirely sure how she felt about the older girl accompanying them south. She did like Tyana she supposed, and it would be good to have some company her own age. She critically assessed Tyana, wondering how the northern girl would fare in the south. Would she find a husband there, as Medea had inadvertently found a husband in the north?

"Medea." The voice startled her from her reverie and she spun around to see Robb Stark walking towards her. He cleared his throat as he reached her and stared at the ground. Was that guilt in his eyes? Why? Was he upset that she was leaving? She doubted it. Medea and Robb were friends, but she hadn't formed a romantic attachment to him. "I mean, my lady. You must be grateful to be returning to King's Landing."

"I am quite," Medea replied, before realising she must have sounded rude. "That is to say, Winterfell is too cold for my taste yet. But I'm sure when I return, I will accustom to it. As its future lady, at least, I should hope so."

Robb smiled a little, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I hope so too."

* * *

"Honestly, Robert, she would be far better off even marrying that Tyrell boy than Ned Stark's son," Cersei snapped as she sat beside Robert at the table. He sipped his wine, grumbling into his goblet at having this conversation _again._ Robb Stark was a fine young man and Medea should be happy that she would have a husband close to her own age. But still, Cersei insisted on being sour about the match.

"An alliance with the Starks may be useful," Robert growled, glowering across at her. "I've heard enough of this."

"You've always heard enough, Robert," Cersei said icily, before sighing. She watched as Medea flitted happily around the hall, enjoying the feast. The dark-haired girl seemed ecstatic to be back in the capital. "Honestly. She's your oldest child."

"And she isn't married yet," Robert reminded her. Medea would be seventeen years old soon, she needed to find a husband and bear him children. Girls were doing the same thing at younger ages, so he didn't know why Cersei was so stressed. "She needs to be."

"Not to a Stark," Cersei persisted. Robert knew that Cersei's dislike of the match no doubt stemmed from the Lannister family's own tension with the Starks. "I don't want her so far from home."

"You have more children," Robert said dismissively, quickly tiring of the conversation. He just wanted to enjoy the feast, but he couldn't enjoy anything when Cersei was around, hissing in his ear.

"You want her married to that Stark boy just because you were to marry Lyanna," Cersei accused.

"She will be fine," Robert insisted, his tone indicating that the conversation was over. Cersei folded her arms, that scowl still across her beautiful face. When Robert called for more wine, she touched his arm with a saccharine smile.

"Robert, my sweet, I think you've had enough."

"Quiet, woman," Robert rumbled, removing his arm from her grasp and taking another swig of his wine.

* * *

Tyana found herself playing with her dress as she walked into the large room tentatively. She wasn't used to seeing so many people or as many vibrant colours. Medea had chosen a dress for her to wear that was made from green silk and fit against her slight curves, accentuating them more than she was used to.

As she thought of the other girl, she noticed her flitting around the room in a blue dress that made her dark hair seem even darker. The other girl was laughing and talking as she sipped a sweet wine from the goblet in her hand.

Tyana looked away from the other girl, picking up a goblet of wine herself and taking a sip. She pushed her hair behind her ear, still adjusting to having her hair braided out of her face. In Winterfell she would usually let her hair loose, except when parrying with others. Thinking of her home made her feel almost sick to the stomach. She missed her home, but more than anything, she missed her friends.

"You look lovely." Medea's comment pulled the older girl from her thoughts.

Tyana turned her head in Medea's direction, smiling at her. "Thank you. Although, you look more beautiful."

Medea wrinkled her nose, people were always saying that to her and few of them were genuine in saying it. "People just say that because I'm a princess. Come, you have to meet my friends and family."

"Alright." Tyana let the other girl lead her towards a table.

"Joffrey! Myrcella! Tommen! Have you met Tyana?" Medea called, smiling at her siblings, though she wasn't particularly fond of Joffrey.

Joffrey examined Tyana critically, "She one of the northerners?"

Tyana nodded, keeping her posture and tone even and polite. "Yes, I am."

Medea gestured to the eldest of her siblings. "This is Joffrey. He is typically rude and needs me to introduce him."

Joffrey turned his attention away from Medea and Tyana, seemingly having found something more interesting on the opposite side of the room. Tyana greeted Medea's other two siblings before glancing around the room herself, hoping to see her uncle in the midst of all the other people who were around, however, she didn't see him within the crowds of people unknown to her.

"Come. I'll introduce you to Loras. He's probably with my uncle." Medea smiled, leading her over to where Loras and Jamie were talking animatedly, prompting Medea to call out to them. "Uncle! Loras!"

Jamie glanced at his young niece, smiling as he saw her dragging Tyana behind her. "Ah, Medea. You are looking rather stunning tonight."

Medea smiled at her uncle's compliment, knowing that what he was saying was genuine. "Thank you, uncle. This is Tyana. She is Jory Cassel's niece."

Loras smiled at the northerner, taking her hand in his and lower his head to place a gentle kiss to the back of her hand. "Pleased to meet you."

Tyana smiled, not used to the gesture. "And you also."

"Tyana. I believe we have met previously in Winterfell." Jamie could recall the girls name, knowing that the Starks counted her to be part of their family, despite there being no blood relation.

"We did." Tyana smiled, beginning to feel pain from smiling so much. "It is lovely to see you again."

Medea elbowed Loras in the ribs, tilting her head in Tyana's direction. Loras caught on quickly, turning his full attention on the older girl. "Tyana, would you care to dance?"

"Alright." Tyana agreed, letting Loras take her hand and lead her to where several other couples were dancing.

Loras put an arm around Tyana's waist, his grip soft but firm, holding her close to him as she placed her hands on his shoulders. Tyana felt a little awkward as she was unused to such a situation, but she soon found herself relaxing into Loras's hold on her. She could tell he wasn't the type who would hurt a woman, but she also knew that even the prettiest of faces could hold the ugliest of hearts.

"Are you enjoying King's Landing so far?" Loras asked as they moved with the music that was flooding the room, echoing around them from every direction.

"It is very different to the north. I am not used to wearing such light and revealing clothing." Tyana gestured to the green dress that had a fairly revealing neckline.

"I must say… it suits you." Loras complimented, flashing a charming smile that would make most women swoon.

Tyana felt her cheeks warm and a light colouring spread across her pale skin. "Thank you. Although, I am much paler in complexion than most of the women here."

"That is because you are from the north." Loras pointed out, knowing the women in the capital had a darker complexion due to there being more sun in the capital.

Tyana nodded, knowing his statement to be true. "It is indeed."

"Are the customs very different here?" Loras questioned, as he knew little of the north except from what he was taught.

"They are very." Tyana mused, looking around at the others who were dancing around them.

Loras raised an eyebrow, now curious for what the girl in his arms had to say. "In what ways?"

Tyana shrugged her shoulders. "The celebrations here are more lively."

"Is that a good thing?" Loras asked, wondering if she preferred the dullness of the north compared to the lively south.

Tyana thought on it for a moment before answering. "I'm still deciding that.'

Loras chuckled, glancing over to where Medea and Jamie were. He hadn't been surprised that the princess had befriended Tyana; both seemed to be fairly nice women. "It seems you have befriended Princess Medea."

"Is that a good thing?" Tyana wondered by his tone if she had made the wrong decision in befriending the girl, but she herself had found Medea to be quite kind and welcoming.

Loras tried to find a way to explain Medea, unsure of how to. "She is...very lively."

"She is indeed." Tyana agreed, knowing that was one of many ways to explain Medea.

"My sister is a lot like her." Loras watched Medea as Jamie and her began to dance.

Tyana had heard of Loras and his sister, though she was unsure of what her name was exactly. "Margaery?"

"Yes, do you know of her?" Loras inquired, arching an eyebrow, surprised that the northerner knew his sister's name.

"I have heard rumours and mutterings. Nothing more." Tyana spoke quietly, almost unsure of what to say.

"Good or bad?" Loras had thought only good things had been said of his sister, but her also knew that rumours spread like wildfire.

Tyana smiled, having only heard good things. "Good. I have heard she is very kind and beautiful."

"She is."

* * *

"What are you planning, Medea?" Jaime inquired as he watched his niece fold her arms over her chest and smirk as she watched Loras and Tyana dancing. She glanced at Jaime with an innocent smile on her lips.

"Nothing, uncle."

"You are not as skilled a liar as you seem to think," Jaime informed her. It was obvious to anyone that Medea was attempting to push Tyana towards Loras. However, neither girl seemed to notice that despite his charms, Loras was not particularly interested in women.

"I don't pretend to be skilled," Medea replied somewhat coolly. "I should think my plan is obvious."

Jaime watched as Loras spun Tyana. The boy was friendly enough, but if Tyana came to care for him as so many silly Westerosi girls did, she would soon find herself with a broken heart.

"May I ask why?"

"Because it would do her good to marry a handsome young man," Medea retorted. If her family could set about matchmaking her with Robb Stark, she could certainly do some matchmaking of her own. Besides, if Cersei had her way, Medea wouldn't even be marrying the Stark boy.

"You think Loras would be suitable?" Jaime questioned.

The Princess shrugged. "He is from a family of high esteem."

"You seem to have developed an affection for her," Jaime stated, raking a hand through his blonde hair. "Be careful not to trust too easily."

"I don't trust," Medea nearly snapped. She was sick of being treated like a child who didn't know how to play the game of thrones. She knew more about politics than most girls her age, perhaps more than her family seemed to think. "I simply befriend. Mother has many friends, but I wouldn't say she trusts."

"Your mother trusts family only," Jaime muttered, glancing across at Cersei. She looked unhappy as Robert called for even more wine. No doubt he would have whores in his bed later on, dishonoring his wife.

"That's why she doesn't want me to marry anyone." Medea scowled and glanced around the hall. "No one dances with me because it's intimidating. That's what Lancel says. So why would anyone marry me?"

It was true. No one had dared approach Robert about marrying Medea, quite simply because she was out of the league of most men, even nobles. But it had been Robert to suggest the marriage between Robb and Medea to Ned, not the other way around.

"Would you like to dance?" Jaime drawled with a lazy smile.

"You're my uncle, that doesn't count," Medea pointed out, "You're one of the few people who doesn't cower before Father."

Jaime chuckled. That was true, because unlike most men, he didn't fear the wrath of Robert Baratheon.

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Can you actually dance in that armour?" Medea asked of him, her blue eyes sparkling with amusement as she inspected the heavy armour of the Kingsguard that looked like it would prohibit Jaime from moving too much at all.

"I am a very talented person," Jaime responded, causing Medea to laugh and take his arm when he offered it to her. He placed a hand on the small of her back as they joined the others dancing, before he glanced over at Loras and Tyana. "I think your matchmaking may be working."

"I think so too," Medea stated enthusiastically. "I am clever, see?"


	4. Those Beneath

**Chapter Four: Those Beneath**

Medea was searching frantically for her uncle Renly, who was once again late for a small council meeting. Of course this one was rather important and even Robert had been present, so he had sent his oldest daughter to find his brother as though she was some lowly maid. She sighed heavily, glancing at Tyana as the older girl approached her, grey eyes concerned as she noted the Princess's irritated expression.

"Medea, are you alright?" she inquired.

"Yes, just looking for my uncle," Medea replied distractedly. She had rather hoped to find Renly in the gardens, where he often liked to look at the flowers, but there was no sign of him.

"Would you like me to accompany you?" Tyana offered. The two girls had become rather close during their journey to King's Landing, and during their time spent in the capital. There were few other young ladies of Medea's own age, and she found Tyana to be pleasant company.

"If you would like to." Medea trailed up to her uncle's rooms, starting to become slightly more annoyed now. It was getting on her nerves, having to run around in order to find her father's brother just to discuss the Tourney of the Hand. According to Ned, he wasn't even particularly enthusiastic about it in any case. She wandered down the corridor, pulling open Renly's door before screaming loudly.

"Medea?" Tyana placed a cautious hand on her friend's shoulder, glancing into the room. She had to admit that she was slightly perturbed as well. Renly Baratheon jumped off his bed barely dressed, with his pants undone. Loras Tyrell was with him, curly hair a complete mess.

"Uncle Renly?! Ser Loras?!" Medea sounded completely horrified as she watched the two adjust their clothes and pretend nothing had happened. Tyana was a little disconcerted, but mainly because she had believed Loras to be interested in women. "What are you doing?"

"I think it's quite obvious, Medea," Renly responded calmly, as though there was nothing odd about the situation at all.

"You're interested in _men_?" Medea cried incredulously, earning a brisk nod from her uncle. The dark-haired girl promptly collapsed in a faint, causing Tyana to dart forward and catch the smaller girl.

"Oh dear," Loras stated mildly, raising his eyebrows and glancing at Tyana meaningfully. "I think you should take her back to her room."

* * *

Tyana pushed her dark hair out of her eyes as she wandered around the maze-like stone corridors. She was amazed at how big the whole place was; it made Winterfell seem quite small. Tyana glanced around as she wandered into the gardens, noticing Medea sitting on one of the benches in deep thought. Tyana wandered over to the younger girl, sitting down beside her.

Medea glanced at her, a smile spreading across her lips. "Tyana."

"Medea." Tyana smiled back, glancing around and noticing that so few people were in the gardens despite it being a rather warm day.

"How are you finding the south?" Medea questioned the older girl, noticing that she had begun wearing dresses similar to her own.

"Warm. I miss the cold of the north." Tyana admitted, she knew she wasn't one who enjoyed the heat.

"It is quite warm here." Medea nodded, feeling sympathy for the girl. She knew how hard it was to adjust to a place you didn't know, and one that was so vastly different to your home.

The two girls sat in silence for a moment, Tyana frequently looking around the foreign place she would be calling home for a while. She didn't like the idea of it, but Jory was her only family and she knew that he meant good by bringing her with him.

"I'm still not sure about Robb." Medea sighed; the thought of marrying him had been at the back of her mind since the betrothal was first arranged.

"About the betrothal?" Tyana glanced at her, confusion evident on her face.

"Yes." Medea nodded, pushing her dark hair form her face.

Tyana looked at the younger girl, knowing she could be in a worse engagement than the one she was currently in. "You are lucky. He is an honourable man."

"Yes but I don't...care for him." Medea chose her words carefully, knowing that Tyana and Robb were close friends. Tyana nodded in understanding, she knew that it couldn't be easy for Medea. "You do though."

"Pardon?" Tyana didn't quite understand what Medea was insinuating.

"I believe you care for Robb." Medea clarified, playing with the necklace that rested against her chest.

"We are close friends." Tyana told her, knowing it was no secret to anyone in Winterfell that she was quite close with Robb.

"Just friends?" Medea raised an eyebrow, she was sure that something was going on between the two of them.

"Just friends. Have been since we were children." Tyana assured her, pushing her hair out of her face.

Medea nodded slowly. "And you've never wanted anything more?"

"Why do you ask? What I feel is irrelevant." Tyana pointed out. If she cared for Robb in a romantic way, it wouldn't matter. The two would never be able to marry anyway.

"I'm curious." Medea shrugged her shoulders. "I know he isn't attracted to me."

"He isn't attracted to anyone." Tyana laughed, knowing that Robb hadn't found anyone he cared for yet.

Medea raised an eyebrow in question. "Does he prefer men?"

"No, he just hasn't met anyone he cares for like that." Tyana explained, knowing that Robb was definitely interested in women.

"Are you alright? Is it too big?" Medea questioned, noticing that Tyana had been playing with her dress for a while now.

"No. I'm just thinking." Tyana glanced up from her hands, smiling at Medea.

Medea grinned at her. "About Robb?"

"About everything. My uncle is trying to find someone for me to marry." Tyana made a face of disgust. She had no desire to marry anyone, let alone a southerner.

"Well you are older than me." Medea pointed out, knowing that Tyana would have to marry soon, perhaps even before her. It was how society worked.

"I do not wish to marry." Tyana told her. She would rather live alone then be forced into a marriage.

"I have to. To breed more babies with a claim to the throne. That's all I'm good for." Medea's tone was bitter and Tyana knew that she hated how people saw her.

"You're good for many things. You just don't know it yet." Tyana smiled, putting her arm around the other girl.

* * *

"I see you are getting along well with Tyana Cassel," Jaime noted as he and Medea took a turn around the castle. Robert had asked to speak with Cersei alone, meaning that Jaime's presence was not required – for now. Therefore he had approached his niece, stating his desire to talk to her. "What about Sansa Stark?"

"Sansa is a few years younger than me," Medea replied tactfully. In truth, she and the younger girl did not have much in common. They were both well-bred young women, but Sansa preferred to live in a land of fairytales with charming princes and noble steeds, whereas Medea contented herself with understanding the reality she was confronted with. While Sansa hid from politics and court intrigue, Medea embraced it.

"Do you trust her?" Jaime asked, earning a rather startled look from his niece. "The Cassel girl, I mean."

"I…I'm not sure," Medea stammered. She knew that she should not too easily trust, her mother told her constantly. The only people she could trust were her family. While Tyana was a good friend, Medea did not think that the older girl had earned her complete trust. She shook her head vigorously. "That is to say, no, I don't."

"Good. You shouldn't." Jaime glanced over the battlements down below at the people in the courtyard bustling around, and pointed a mailed hand towards them. "Do you know why we are up here, and they are down there."

Medea blinked, not quite comprehending. "No."

"Because we are above them." Jaime glanced at her, his green eyes sharp. The look of boredom was gone from his face, replaced by something restless, urgent. "You are the oldest daughter of the King of Westeros. Do you know what they would do if they were up here right now?"

"No," Medea murmured, feeling rather foolish for not following her uncle's meaning.

"They would push us over the edge," Jaime replied bluntly, raking a hand through his golden hair. "It's always been the way. Those in power are toppled by those who aren't."

Medea's blue eyes widened in horror. "Are you trying to say that the Starks are trying to do that? I wouldn't believe it of them. Ned Stark is an honourable man, Father has been his friend for many years…"

"People change." Jaime waved a dismissive hand. "Even the honourable are tempted by power. Your supposed friend, Tyana? She no doubt wants to become one of your ladies so that she can gossip about you behind your back. Don't trust her, or any of the others. What are you, Medea?"

She knew the answer this time. "A stag. A crowned stag. I am Medea Baratheon, Princess of Westeros."

"No. You are a lion." Jaime glanced over the edge once more. "A stag would be eaten by a wolf. The lion takes the wolf's head in its jaws and bites it off when the wolf grows too confident of its own power. You are not only your father's daughter, Medea. Remember your mother's family, too. You are ruthless, and don't forget it."


	5. Trust No One

**Chapter Five: Trust No One **

It was not often that Cersei requested to have dinner alone with her oldest daughter, but it was Medea's seventeenth name-day, and so the Princess knew that she could not refuse her mother. She put on her nicest dress – bright Baratheon yellow to match her sigil and complement her colouring. Medea couldn't help but feel nervous as she waited for her mother at the table. The turkey with cranberry sauce was starting to cool rapidly.

Joffrey's name-days were accompanied by tourneys in his honour, and gifts showered upon him. The fact that Medea had turned seventeen was little-known within the court. She wanted no extravagant feast or beautiful gifts, but she had thought that her family might have paid a little more attention to the event.

"Sweet daughter." Cersei smiled briefly as she crossed over to take her sit across from Medea. Her green eyes inspected the Baratheon colours that the girl proudly sported, and distaste tugged at the corners of her lips. "That yellow is far too bright. You would be better off in a deep wine red."

_Lannisters colours,_ Medea thought, although she did not say as much aloud. She watched as Cersei eased herself into the chair opposite and started eating with utter grace. Everything the Queen did was delicate and perfect. Medea couldn't help but feel self-conscious. She was her mother's polar opposite, in personality as well as in appearance.

"The most horrible thing happened today," Cersei stated, examining her dark-haired daughter closely as Medea took a sip of her wine. The girl had not complained about the lack of celebration in regards to her birthday. Perhaps she suspected that something had occurred during the day, something more important than her. "Lord Stark was returning drunk from a brothel and attacked Jaime."

"What?!" Medea exclaimed, completely forgetting about keeping her voice quiet like a lady should. Ned Stark did not seem the type of man who would visit a brothel, but he was away from his wife, and sometimes even the most honourable of men got lonely. "Attacked Uncle Jaime? Is he alright?"

"He is unhurt." Cersei took a sip from her own wine. "There are far more troubling matters at hand. We have also received word that Lady Catelyn has captured Tyrion, on her husband's orders of course, and is intending to use him as a hostage."

Medea was stunned into silence. Perhaps Jaime had been right about not trusting the Starks. How could they have captured Tyrion? Why would they have done such a thing? It was known that there was no love lost between the Starks and the Lannisters, but this was something completely different.

"Why?"

"I am uncertain." Cersei's lip curled bitterly. "Your father, of course, is not taking it as seriously as the rest of us. He is off on another hunting trip soon, as if that can solve all of his problems. I've been insisting that he should sever your betrothal to that Stark boy immediately. We don't want you tied down to such traitors."

"Who would I marry, Mother?" Medea inquired, her hand tightening on her fork. Her first flowering had been four years past, and her parents were still to find her a suitable husband. It seemed that Cersei was waiting on perfection. The Queen gave a neat shrug of her shoulders.

"I think looking to the north and your father's old friends was not a wise idea. Don't fret, my little doe. We will find you a match yet."

* * *

Tyana put her brush down as she began to braid her dark hair out of her face. She was tired; she could see that in her own reflection. She had been having issues sleeping over the past few days and it was obvious in the dark rings that had settled under her eyes. She let out a heavy sigh before pouring herself a glass of water.

She was still thinking over the conversation she had preciously had with Medea about Robb. She'd been lying to the girl when she said nothing was going on, she did care for him, but she knew that she would never be able to openly express her feelings for him. He was betrothed to Medea and she wouldn't be able to change that no matter how hard she tried.

Tyana was brought from her thoughts when she heard a knock at her door. She was curious as to who was, her Uncle usually knocked and walked right in instead of waiting for her to answer the door. She swung the door open to see Lord Stark standing there, his face pale and full of remorse.

"Lord Stark."

Ned looked down at her. "Tyana. I have some news for you. Bad news."

Tyana swallowed before opening the door wider. "Come in."

"You may want to sit down." Ned suggested as he walked into the room, turning around to face her as she shut the door.

"Why? What's going on?" Tyana questioned, crossing her arms over her chest.

Ned sighed. He'd forgotten how stubborn the young woman in front of him was. It reminded him of when Robb and Jon had first begun learning to use a sword and no matter how much Jory had tried to deter her from fighting, she'd insisted on learning. "It's about your uncle."

"What about him?" Tyana began to feel worry at the edge of her mind. She could tell something was wrong, but she didn't understand what could be so bad that it made Ned seem pained to tell her. She hoped that her uncle was just ill, but something told her it was far worse.

Ned watched her carefully. He could almost see her mind ticking away. "He...he is dead."

"What?" Tyana could feel her heart sink in her chest as her whole body seemed to gravitate towards the floor as she sat heavily on the bed, unsure of how to feel or react.

"He was killed." Ned clarified, watching her, as she seemed to be fighting off the grief that she was feeling.

Tyana bit her lip, holding back tears. "How?"

Ned crossed the room, sitting beside her on the bed. He knew what it was like to lose family and he felt for the young girl. Jory had been the only blood she had left and now he was gone. "Jaime Lannister did it."

Tyana nodded, wiping at her eyes as the tears began to fall down her face. She couldn't hold them back any longer, as the pain she was feeling seemed to cut deeper and deeper into her, grabbing a hold and refusing to let go. Ned put an arm around her, watching as she pressed her hands to her face, sobs beginning to shake through her.

Ned rubbed her back in a comforting gesture as she began to cry harder, the grief becoming overbearing. "It'll be alright."

Tyana shook her head. She couldn't begin to understand how anything was going to be all right. "He was the only family I had."

"You still have us." Ned pointed out. He had always viewed the young girl as part of his family. Catelyn had been the only mother figure in her life and Robb had always treated her like a sister. "I know it must hurt."

"Is it alright if I go back to Winterfell?" Tyana questioned, her voice cracking slightly. She didn't want to talk about her uncle of anything like that. She just wanted to go home.

Ned nodded, glancing down at the young girl. "If that is what you would like."

"Thank you." Tyana managed a small smile, closing her eyes as she leant into Ned's warm embrace.

Ned kissed the top of her head as he stroked her hair in a comforting manner. Her smiled a little, as she seemed to lean into him. He could understand a little of what she was feeling, for he was grieving the loss of a friend.

"I mourn his loss too."

Tyana nodded, wiping at her eyes. "You were good friends."

"For most of my life."

* * *

"Medea!"

The dark-haired girl turned to see her uncle Renly striding down the corridor towards her. He had been out hunting with Robert, although Renly wasn't much good with a spear himself. Medea inspected her uncle, noting the frantic look about his face as he approached her. There could be no doubting that he brought bad news.

"What is the matter, Uncle Renly?" she inquired, striding over to him in quick steps. Renly caught her hands in his and she could see that tears were welling in his eyes. Alarm coursed through her veins.

"I'm so sorry, my sweet niece." He heaved a deep breath. "It's Robert, it's your father. He was…the boar we were hunting…he was drunk…"

What? Medea couldn't believe it, not after everything else that had been occurring this past week. Her heart started to pound and she wrenched her hands from Renly's, staggering backwards and shaking her head.

"What. Happened?"

"The boar gored him," Renly's voice was little more than a remorseful whisper. "I should have seen that he was too drunk, I should have done something about it…I'm so sorry, Medea. He likely will not live."

"What?" Medea's voice was a disbelieving murmur. "I have to see him."

Her jovial, belligerent father. Robert's laughter had lit up the halls on many a day. She remembered him reading to her a few times when she was little, although never as frequently as Cersei. She remembered his bear-like bellows and her giggles and squeals when he found her when she attempted to hide from him. It was impossible to believe that a man who had made such a huge impact on her life could in fact be about to die.

"I'm not sure that's a wise idea yet," Renly stated, watching his niece as she whirled to face him, Baratheon blue eyes sparkling with anger. "Medea…it's a very messy wound."

"I don't care!" Medea bellowed, her sudden volume causing Renly to flinch. "He is my _father_! Seven hells, I will see him whether you think I may swoon or not."

* * *

"Medea," Robert wheezed the words as his eldest daughter came to sit by his bedside, taking one of his large, meaty hands in both of hers. He had always loved her best, always wished that she was a boy so that she could take over after him. Robert's heart broke for the tears that spilled down Medea's cheeks. She was such a pretty thing, although she looked nothing like her mother. She should be married by now. He should have had the chance to holding a sleeping grandson and marvel at his child's children.

"Father. Is there any chance you will recover?"

"Unfortunately not," Robert coughed, grimacing as the wound in his stomach pained him horribly. It wasn't a sight for her eyes, or even for her brother Joffrey's. None of his children needed to see the horrific wound that had ended him. "Sweet girl, you are nothing like her."

"Nothing like who?" Medea asked, puzzled. Perhaps in his dying hours, her father was beginning to lose his sanity. She clutched his hand all the tight, as though that physical contact meant that he would stay with her.

"Your mother. Cersei." Robert sucked in a deep breath. Every word seemed to pain him, and Medea felt tears pricking in her eyes once more. "You are more like me, and I'm bloody grateful for that. Your hair…your eyes…you are a true Baratheon. You are my daughter, and I am proud of you."

"Daddy," Medea whispered, her voice breaking as the tears flowed freely down her face. She wanted to hold him tight and never let go, but to clutch at him would only cause him pain. Robert reached across and tucked his daughter's hair back from his face. Gods, he hadn't meant to cause her such anguish.

"I'll be at peace soon," he assured her, "Don't mourn, I want you to be happy. I want you to marry and have lots of children. Six would do just nicely."

She couldn't help a small laugh. "I will, Father. I promise."

Medea sat in her room with her knees curled to her chest as the bells tolled for Robert Baratheon. Now Joffrey would take the throne. She shuddered at the thought, knowing that her brother would be a most vile King indeed. A knock on the door made Medea look up. Cersei had already come to hold her daughter as she cried, so she highly doubted that it was the Queen Regent.

"Come in."

The door opened and to Medea's utter surprise, Tyana Cassel walked in. The girl had lost her uncle Jory in the fight between Lord Stark and Jaime's men. It must be difficult for her too. Yet the brunette crossed over and sat down tentatively.

"I heard about your father. I'm sorry for your loss."

Medea wiped at her eyes as Tyana shifted closer, forsaking propriety and putting her arms around the Princess. It was so nice to have someone other than member of her family who seemed to care, so good to be able to let go. Medea sobbed as Tyana stroked her hair, and she wondered if perhaps Tyana could be trusted after all.

"He's just…gone."

It was so difficult to imagine that Robert Baratheon, with his belly laugh and his drunken roars across the hall, was suddenly in the hands of the Seven. Medea felt utterly miserable, for she had always related better to her father than her mother. It was only the loss of one person, yet she felt awfully alone.

"You should try to sleep," Tyana suggested, watching as the dark-haired Princess nodded and curled on her side. She closed her eyes and tried to banish her tears, but it would be a long time before her memories could be silenced and sleep would come.


	6. Fealty

**Chapter Six: Fealty**

* * *

** A/N: Next chapter will finally feature AEGON! About time, we know. Things are about to get interesting for Medea and Tyana ;)**

* * *

Medea walked into the throne room and marvelled at how much everything had changed. That brat Joffrey now lounged in the throne, regarding his older sister with cold green eyes. She had always despised him, for she had been the one to shield Tommen whenever Joffrey bullied him mercilessly. Yet now Medea was forced to curtsy before the boy who had tried to make her life hell at every opportunity.

"Sister," Joffrey drawled.

"Brother," Medea replied, before she corrected herself. "I mean…your Grace."

Joffrey's smirk was repugnant. "I am your King now."

As if Medea could forget. She did not see Joffrey grieving for the loss of their father, although she knew it must have made some impact on him. Instead he seemed to care more for the power he had gained through Robert's unfortunate encounter with the boar.

"A young one at that," Medea stated boldly, tossing back her dark hair.

Joffrey arched an eyebrow. "You have come to swear fealty?"

"I have." Medea loathed him, loathed how she was made to become his lesser by a simple twist of fate. She got down on her knees before him, staring hard at the ground. "I, Medea Baratheon, do solemnly swear to remain loyal, for as long as you are King."

"Good." Joffrey sounded pleased as he watched Medea push herself to her feet, tucking a strand of black hair behind her ear.

"If only the line of ascension went in terms of age before gender," she mused.

"Are you questioning my right to be King?" Joffrey demanded, eyes narrowing dangerously. If she had been a lily-livered coward, Medea would have apologised profusely. But she was her father's daughter, and she did not fear Joffrey simply because he had a crown on his head.

"Yes, I suppose I am."

"I could have you punished for that," Joffrey declared, getting to his feet and descending the stairs towards her. They were of a height, which Medea had always taken vicious satisfaction in. For a boy, her brother was on the small side.

"You wouldn't," Medea said airily, "Mother would never let you."

"Mother has no power over me now that I am King," Joffrey snapped, stopping right before his older sister.

"But you would still listen to her. What an obedient son." Medea jeered, before Joffrey struck her across the face. It was not abnormal for him, as while he would never hit Sansa due to her being his lady, he did not have quite the same morals in regards to his older sister. She touched her lip, wincing. "You hit like a girl, your Grace. You only think I'm good for one thing, don't you?"

"Women are only ever good for one thing," Joffrey spat at her. The sooner that his sister was married off, the better. She was trouble, he had always known it. Yet Robert had treated her like she was something special.

"Maybe I'll never marry or have children." Medea folded her arms and stared at him defiantly. "It's up to Mother who I marry. Not you, little brother."

"She has found you someone," Joffrey retorted, causing Medea to fall silent momentarily. Ned Stark had been imprisoned and was held in the dungeons for treason. According to Cersei, he had attempted to have her and her children taken into custody so that he could have the throne himself. That had meant Robb Stark was clearly not to be her betrothed, and she wondered how Cersei could have found another match so quickly.

"Who?" Medea inquired.

Joffrey waved a dismissive hand. "I don't know or care."

"You'll care if I bear them a son," Medea said, dangerously quiet. Tommen was next in line to the throne after Joffrey, yet if anything happened to her two brothers, Medea would take the throne. Any male heir she had would cement her claim to the throne.

"Sansa will bear me a son soon enough," Joffrey claimed, causing Medea to wrinkle her nose in disgust.

"She is thirteen, Joffrey. She is far too young to bear children yet."

Joffrey struck her across the face again. He was tired of Medea's rebellion, and how she seemed unable to speak to him with the proper respect.

"Leave!"

"What is going on?"

Both siblings turned to see Cersei striding into the throne room with an unimpressed expression on her face. She did not like it when her children fought, although she knew that Joffrey could often be…difficult to get along with.

"He hit me," Medea accused, folding her arms and narrowing her eyes at her younger brother. King or not, striking a woman was not acceptable behaviour. Cersei turned her sharp gaze upon her son.

"Joffrey, we spoke about this."

"Both of you, leave!" Joffrey exploded. "I do not wish to speak to either of you."

Medea turned on her heel and stalked out of the throne room. How was she meant to survive with her brother as her King? The sooner she was married off, the better, in her opinion. She just wondered who Cersei had found for her now.

* * *

Medea took a deep breath and knocked on Tyana's door. The older girl was fortunate to have escaped the slaughter that had claimed many members of the Stark household, although she was likely in mourning due to Ned Stark's shocking execution. However, Medea knew that Tyana was not safe in the capital, and that getting her away was the best option.

Cersei had told her of her betrothal to Quentyn Martell of Dorne, who was a few years her senior. She was to be sent south within the month, and although Medea had already accepted her fate, she was not resigning Tyana to the probable wrath of her family by leaving her in King's Landing.

"Medea." Tyana inspected the younger girl closely when she opened the door. Medea was not certain she was welcome, especially not after it had been her brother that had seen to Ned Stark's head being on a spike.

"I came to request something of you," Medea stated briskly, stepping into the room and watching as Tyana closed and bolted the door behind her. Of course the girl was worried, as if someone might come to kill her too. Medea couldn't help but pity her, despite Jaime telling her that it was not a wise idea to develop any affections for Tyana. "You can say no."

"What happened?" Tyana inquired, gesturing to the bruise that marred Medea's pretty face. The Princess's fingers rose to the purple-blue mark on her cheek. Joffrey did not hit that hard, but he had left his mark.

"The King was displeased with me."

Tyana's lip curled. Of course she hated Joffrey, the boy had ordered the execution of the one man she could have considered family. Now it appeared that the King was using his power to abuse members of his own family.

"He should not have hit you."

"The King does as he pleases," Medea said dryly, before she heaved a sigh. "My mother has retracted my betrothal to Robb and instead promised me to Quentyn Martell of Dorne. I was wondering if you would accompany me to Sunspear."

"I have a question before I answer." Tyana observed Medea with a guarded expression. Why should the Princess wish to help her get away from King's Landing, when the rest of her family could use Tyana as some kind of political prisoner against the north. "Why do you wish me to accompany you?"

"Because I believe I can trust you." Medea stepped closer, her blue eyes raking over her friend. Jaime said that she should not put her faith in Tyana – yet there had been many betrayals from within Medea's own family, such as Joffrey taking back his promise to Sansa. "I also believe you are in danger if you stay."

"Alright." Tyana nodded her affirmative. She had never been so far south, but she supposed it might be her only opportunity to escape Joffrey's tyranny.

* * *

Tyana raked her dark hair back as she knocked on Sansa's door. She hadn't spoken to the younger girl much since they had left Winterfell, but she thought it appropriate for her to begin speaking with her more often. She knew Sansa would be grieving the loss of her father and she wanted to help her in any way that she could, even if she was just there as someone for Sansa to talk to about everything that was going on.

Sansa opened the door, relief flooding her features when she saw Tyana's familiar face. "Ty."

"May I come in?" Ty asked, not wanting to intrude on the girls' privacy.

"Of course." Sansa moved aside, allowing Tyana enough room to walk into the lavish room. "I hear you are accompanying Princess Medea to Dorne."

"I am. I'd hoped you would hear the news from me." Tyana admitted. The news of her leaving for Dorne was the main reason for her visit.

"Joffrey told me. He is horrible." Sansa commented. She hated living in the capital. All she wanted to do was go home.

Tyana put her arms around Sansa, pulling her into a comforting hug. "I'm sorry."

Sansa returned the hug gratefully, happy for the human contact. "They can't find Arya."

"I hope she's safe." Tyana whispered into the other girl's vibrant red hair.

"Safer than us." Sansa mused, knowing that one wrong move could lead to one of both of them being killed.

Tyana nodded, holding onto her tightly. "Robb won't let them get away with this."

"I hope he takes Joffrey's head." Sansa snarled, her voice conveying the amount of hatred she felt for the new tyrant king.

"As do I." Tyana agreed whole-heartedly.

"Can we trust any of them?" Sansa whispered, her youth showing in her features, causing Tyana to remember just how young Sansa was. Too young to be dealing with everything that she was experiencing.

"No. We can only trust ourselves." Tyana told her, stroking her hair. "It's okay to cry, Sansa."

Sansa broke down in Tyana's arms, her sobs wracking through her slender frame. Tyana held her close, continuing to stroke the younger girl's hair in a comforting gesture. She'd never been good at comforting people, but she guessed she was doing an okay job, as Sansa seemed to begin to calm down, her tears having soaked through Tyana's thin dress.

Sansa rubbed at her eyes, pulling away from Tyana. "I'm sorry. I know you lost Jory too."

"Don't apologise." Tyana kissed her cheek.

Sansa shook her head. "You must be hurting too. But you're braver than me."

Tyana smiled a little. She didn't consider herself braver, just more adjusted to the feelings. "I'm more adjusted to feeling grief."

* * *

Medea watched the sun rise over the courtyard. The servants were bustling about, loading her trunks onto the back of the wheelhouse. She was leaving for Dorne, to meet her betrothed, Quentyn Martell. Rumours had it that while he was not a handsome man, he was kind of heart. She took a deep breath. No matter what Quentyn was like, Medea would marry him when she reached the age of eighteen.

There were other rumours circulating King's Landing of late, rumours that Medea's younger siblings were all illegitimate. It disgusted her that people possibly believed they were conceived by the Queen and her _twin_ _brother_ Jaime. Just because her brothers and sister possessed the blonde hair and green eyes of House Lannister rather than the dark hair and blue eyes of House Baratheon – which Medea alone had inherited – didn't mean they were the products of incest.

"Are you well, sweet?" Cersei approached her oldest daughter, clad in fine silks and jewellery. The Princess was garbed in far more practical clothes considering she would be spending the next few days in a wheelhouse. She offered her mother a brave smile and Cersei kissed her oldest daughter's cheek. It had not been fair of Tyrion to sell off Medea to the Martells.

"I am, Mother."

"I don't want you to go!" Tommen cried, sobbing and wrapping his arms around his sister's waist. Medea forced back a wave of sadness and pried her younger brother off, kneeling in front of him and gripping his shoulders.

"It isn't princely to cry, Tommen. You must remember that."

Joffrey scowled at his younger brother. Medea clambered to her feet, facing her other brother. Although she was two years her brother's senior, they were of the same height, and the crown nestled atop his blonde hair reminded her of who had the true power. Even if the rumours said that Medea was the only legitimate child of Robert, even if she was the oldest, Joffrey was a boy and therefore worth more.

"Your grace." She dipped a curtsy as Joffrey inclined his head stiffly. The two had never been close and some part of Medea was glad to be going to Dorne to escape his cruelty.

Myrcella clung to Medea, too. The young girl would no doubt be lonely without her older sister for company. Medea knew that she would miss her family, Myrcella especially. She also knew that she was a Princess of Westeros and she would show courage. She offered her family murmured goodbyes, not wanting to linger too long for fear she would _never_ leave. So Medea turned her back on them, steeling herself for the trip to Dorne.


	7. Facing The Dark

**Chapter Seven: Facing The Dark**

* * *

**A/N: And the action is beginning to start up! Let us know what you think of Aegon and his plans ;) As well as Robb's (brief, for now) part.**

* * *

"I'm still not certain this is a wise idea." Jon Connington mused as he glanced sideways at Aegon Targaryen.

His young companion was certain that capturing the Baratheon princess would lead him to being one step closer to gaining the Iron Throne. As much as he wanted Aegon to gain the throne, he knew this wasn't the wisest of ideas. It could risk people finding out that he was still alive before they were intending people to know.

"Wise or not, we need the Baratheon child." Aegon told him, his tone holding no room for argument, though he knew Jon would ignore it.

"Child? I thought she was near your own age." Jon glanced at him sideways.

"She is seventeen." Aegon informed him, still seeing her to be a child as she wasn't of age.

Jon rolled his eyes. "Two years younger."

"The candle is out." Aegon stated, dismissing the earlier conversation.

Jon dismounted his horse, drawing his sword. "We will deal with the guards."

Aegon nodded, walking towards the tent, drawing his own sword. He watched as Jon moved stealthily towards the guards, dispatching both of them in a swift motion. Jon nodded that the guards were dead and Aegon took a deep breath before slipping into the tent where he knew the princess would be sleeping.

* * *

Medea was in her tent reading a thick volume, something she had been doing over the past few days to alleviate her boredom. She turned a page, glancing over at Tyana as the older girl rolled over in her sleep. Tiredness pricked at Medea's eyes, so she marked her page and set the book down before blowing out the candle. As she adjusted to the darkness, she rolled onto her side and closed her eyes.

A stealthy noise made Medea sit up and glance around, before someone grabbed her from behind and hauled her out of her bed. She screamed instinctively, the shrill sound rousing Tyana from her sleep immediately. Medea struggled against her assailant, kicking. He put a hand over her mouth and she bit down hard, hard enough that she had to spit out blood when she wrenched free. By the time Medea staggered away from her attacker, Tyana had grabbed her sword and reached out to drag the Princess behind her.

In the dim light, Medea could make out the silvery hair of the man who had grabbed her – but he was not old. His features were youthful and his build tall and muscular. He had to be at least two or three inches over six feet. Another man entered the tent, this one older and not quite as tall.

"I wouldn't," the older man stated, drawing his own sword as he noticed Tyana. He then turned to face the younger man. "At least we know which is the Baratheon."

"Leave!" Medea exclaimed, shivers running down her spine. It sounded as though they had come for her, although she didn't have slightest clue why. The younger man stepped forward, but Tyana held the sword threateningly in his direction.

"Come any closer and I'll gut you."

"I doubt that," the older man drawled, "We don't mean you any harm."

Medea shook her head fervently. "I don't believe that."

"Why are you here?" Tyana demanded, never relenting her grip on her sword. Medea was worried, for although she didn't doubt her friend's ability, there were two men in this tent and both were armed with swords.

The older man gestured to Medea. "For the girl."

Tyana frowned. "Why?"

"She's valuable to us," the younger man's gaze raked over Medea in a way that she didn't like at all.

"And what is your name, little sword lady?" The older man asked, taking a sudden interest in Tyana that made Medea narrow her blue eyes in suspicion. She didn't know why they had come to get her, but she didn't want her friend being involved.

"She is none of your concern."

"Oh, but she is." The younger man looked to Tyana now as well. "Tell us your name."

"It's alright," Medea insisted as Tyana threw her an uncertain glance. Her heart was beating at an erratic, wild pace in her chest, but she forced herself to remain calm. "Tell them."

"Tyana," she murmured.

"Tyana what?" The younger man persisted, causing Tyana to glance a little uncertainly towards Medea. A sudden idea struck the Princess, and she decided to answer instead of making her friend.

"Tyana Swann," Medea stated, a bold lie. "She is one of my ladies at court."

The older man frowned tersely. "I was not aware Lord Swann had a daughter."

"I grew up in court," Tyana replied, quickly catching on to the story Medea was attempting to fabricate.

"Well, Medea," the older man's tone was business-like. "Unless you step forward and surrender yourself, Tyana here will lose something valuable. Her head."

"I would love for you to try and take it," Tyana retorted fiercely, gripping her sword tighter as Medea swallowed hard, considering her options. She didn't know what these men wanted from her, but if they intended to kill her they would already have done so. They needed her alive, perhaps as a pawn against her family.

"Do you promise no harm will come to either of us?" she asked softly.

"If you cooperate, yes," the older man agreed.

Tyana reluctantly lowered her sword and Medea stepped forward, fully aware that she was placing herself in enemy hands.

"I see at least they have some intelligence," the older man noted, a wry smile crossing his leathery features.

* * *

Theon strode through the halls of Winterfell, searching for Robb. He gripped the rolled up piece of parchment in his hand tightly. He knew that Robb wasn't going to be happy when he heard the news, especially this soon after hearing about his father's death. Theon noticed Robb talking with Maester Luwin and walked over to him, hanging him the piece of paper.

"Theon." Robb greeted, glancing down at the letter in his hand.

"A raven brought this. It's addressed to you." Theon explained, crossing his arms over his chest.

Robb took the letter from him and opened it. He read over the words quickly, easily recognizing the handwriting. "It's from Tyana."

"Is she well, considering all that has happened." Theon was curious. Although he and Tyana had their differences, they were still friends.

"She is with Medea Baratheon, headed for Dorne...but..." Robb trailed off. He didn't want to think of the possibilities of what could've happened.

Theon finished the sentence for him, already knowing what had happened to Robb's betrothed. "Medea was taken."

Robb sighed heavily, raking a hand through his hair. "It would seem that in that case, Tyana was either captured as well, or..."

"I'm sure she is well, Robb. She is smart and can fight." Theon assured him, knowing that Tyana would find a way to keep herself from being killed.

Robb nodded, knowing that Theon was right. "I hope so. I worry about her."

"Why is that? You should focus more on the war." Theon told him, knowing that the war was more important then their missing friend. It was essential for them to win this war.

"She has been my friend since childhood, yours too for that matter." Robb pointed out, his voice slightly strained.

"Yet I do not think I worry as you do." Theon sighed, glancing around as they walked outside.

"Perhaps I care for her." Robb remarked, prompting Theon to smirk. "What is so amusing?"

Theon shook his head. "Nothing."

"What is so funny?" Robb demanded. He was not one who liked to be the centre of someone else's amusement without knowing what was so amusing.

"Nothing. Its just, I think many of us noticed how you felt about Tyana." Theon commented, knowing that the way Robb looked at her made it obvious to everyone that he had feelings for her.

"Was it that obvious?" Robb sighed, hoping that not many people would've noticed.

Theon shrugged. "For some."

"How does she feel about me?" Robb questioned, wondering if Tyana had let on anything about whether she cared for him.

"I don't know. Its hard for me to tell how she feels when she's so… cold all of the time." Theon answered. He'd never been able to read Tyana very well.

"She can be kind. She seemed to take well to Medea, strangely." Robb mused. He wasn't used to seeing his friend befriend other females easily.

Theon chuckled. "Maybe she was happy for female company other than Sansa."

"And Sansa is sometimes a bore..." Robb admitted, knowing that his sister wasn't the best of company.

* * *

Medea was attempting to light a candle when her captor entered the tent. She risked a glance, able to see him better now in the dusk. He was very handsome, although she wouldn't admit such a thing. He folded his arms and watched her.

"Medea."

"I would address you by name," she confessed, giving up on her attempts, "But I do not know yours."

"Aegon Targaryen."

His words caused her to stiffen. It had to be a lie, yet when she looked at this young man's silver hair and violet eyes, she could see the truth. He was about nineteen, the same age Aegon would be had he lived. It sent shivers down her spine, yet still she shook her head fervently.

"That's impossible. Aegon died."

He raised an eyebrow. "Do I look dead?"

Medea examined him once more. "You have the eyes and hair. But what would a Targaryen want with me?"

"What do you think?" Aegon inquired, but Medea didn't need to think. She knew the answer almost immediately.

"You are going to use me as a hostage against my family."

"I intend to marry you and put a son in you." Aegon responded, his words causing Medea to freeze up. Whatever she had expected, it was not to be forcibly wed to and impregnated by this supposed Targaryen.

"I refuse," she replied without even having to think.

"Alright." Aegon appeared nonchalant and at first Medea was astonished that he'd accepted her decision so lightly, before he spoke again. "I will see to it that your friend is disposed of."

"No!" Medea cried. She knew that it was what Aegon wanted, for her to react so strongly to the threat to Tyana, but she just couldn't help it. No one was going to die because she was too proud to surrender to a Targaryen.

"Then will you reconsider your answer?" Aegon persisted.

"Only if you tell me why you wish to marry me." Medea was confused, as she was the product of the two houses that Targaryens hated the most – so why would he wish to conceive a child with her? It made no sense.

"If you bore me a son, he would have more claim to the throne than either of us," Aegon explained, and suddenly Medea understood. Aegon was the true heir of the old ruling house, she the true heir of the new. If they were to conceive a child, that baby's right to rule would go unchallenged.

"So we have to…to…" Medea valiantly attempted not to turn red at the thought of Aegon making love to her. She folded her arms when he nodded. "Well, maybe I don't want to have sex with you."

Aegon's violet eyes darkened. "Maybe I want to kill your friend."

"That isn't fair," Medea protested. So if she didn't agree to marry Aegon, he would have Tyana killed? It seemed so unjust to her.

"Life isn't fair," he retorted dismissively.

She scowled, but her cheeks flared with heat. "How are you even going to manage?"

Aegon appeared briefly puzzled. "Manage what?"

"You know well what. Sex." Medea tried to act as though she was completely comfortable discussing the matter. "You have no sort of feelings for me at all."

Aegon's smile became somewhat lecherous. "You have a pretty face."

"And that does it?" Medea asked disbelievingly. She didn't know much about sex at all, but doubted a mere pretty face would be enough to entice Aegon into wanting her. "Having a pretty face?"

"And a nice body," Aegon added, his eyes raking approvingly over her form, causing Medea to wrap her arms around herself self-consciously, knowing that her cheeks must be flaring bright red.

"You haven't seen my body," she snapped.

"I can see you are curvaceous," Aegon stated calmly, watching as Medea glowered at his close inspection of her body. "Do you accept?"

"How long until we are to be wed?" Medea asked, dearly hoping that she may have time to escape from this nightmare.

"Two weeks."

Medea saw no choice in the matter, so she nodded hesitantly. "I…I consent."


	8. Lose Your Control

**Chapter Eight: Lose Your Control**

* * *

**A/N: Hey everyone, here is the next chapter, and some more Aegon for you :) It was nice to see so many reviews last chapter, please let us know what you think of this one!**

* * *

Medea raked a hand through her hair as she paced the tent. She was beginning to make Tyana nervous. "I have to marry him. That's what he asked of me. He said otherwise he would kill you."

Tyana nodded, watching her friend with concern. "I don't want to be the reason you're unhappy."

Medea shook her head, clenching her fists at her side as she stopped pacing the tent, turning to face Tyana. "No. I must do my duty."

Both girls looked toward the entrance of the tent as Jon Connington walked in. "Ladies."

Medea crossed her arms over her chest, narrowing her eyes at Jon and Aegon who had followed Jon in. "Am I not permitted to speak to my friend in private?"

"Careful, little princess." Jon warned her, not wanting to deal with her attitude at this current time. It was beginning to annoy him greatly.

"What is it?" Medea questioned impatiently as Aegon watched her intently.

"We are marching on Storm's End." Jon informed her, frowning when Medea began to laugh.

Aegon crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes narrowing as he watched Medea. "You doubt that we will be able to take Storms End?"

"I do. My uncle is a seasoned battle commander. You are but a boy." Medea sat down beside Tyana, finding Aegon's whole plan rather amusing. She knew that he wouldn't be able to take Storm's End, Stannis was too good a commander and fighter to find a boy like Aegon a threat.

Aegon smirked, not at all fazed by her words. He was confident that he was capable of taking Storm's End. "I do not think you'll be saying things like this when his head is on a spike."

Medea's temper flared, her eyes flashing dangerously. "How dare you speak of my uncle that way."

"The two of you will be separated until the battle is over." Aegon announced, ignoring Medea's narrowed eyes as she glared at him. If looks could kill, Aegon would be dead on the ground at the current time.

"For what reason?" Medea questioned demandingly, not wanting to be separated from Tyana.

"I don't want you running away." Aegon answered, knowing the two were likely to formulate a plan of escape if they were left together.

Medea's tone grew stern, as did her features. "That is no excuse for separating us."

Jon sighed, while Aegon merely ignored the looks that Medea was giving him. "You can't be trusted together."

Medea glared daggers at the two men. "We can't trust you either."

"We know your friend can use a weapon. Or at least, pick one up." Jon crossed his arms over his chest, quickly growing tired of Medea's temper.

Tyana raised an eyebrow, speaking up for the first time in a little while. "So that's your excuse?"

"No, their excuse is cowardice." Medea was seething. She didn't want to be separated from her friend, especially in a place that she didn't know.

"You really managed to find an outspoken one, your grace..." Jon mused, watching as Medea was hauled from the tent by Aegon who had grown tired of her and wanting nothing more then for her to be quiet. Jon then looked to Tyana who was watching them quietly. "I trust you won't behave as wildly as the Baratheon girl."

"I'm not stupid." Tyana got to her feet, walking over to get herself a goblet of water.

"This is partially for your own safety as well." Jon informed her, but Tyana found that hard to believe. She didn't think these men were capable of being kind or honest.

Tyana turned around to face him, studying him carefully. She could tell that where Aegon was reckless, Jon kept him in line, almost like a father would to his son. "How?"

"I'm sure you know what men do to women they find in times of war." Jon sat down, knowing that he wouldn't have to explain anything to Tyana about war times.

Tyana sipped her water, "So you would have us separated?"

"You are able to defend yourself." Jon pointed out, leaning back in the chair.

"And what of Medea?" Tyana questioned, knowing that the young girl wasn't able to defend herself adequately.

"Aegon won't let any harm come to her." Jon assured her, knowing that Aegon may have disliked the girl, but he needed her in order to win back the Iron Throne. "Why were you sent to protect her? You are just a girl."

"I wasn't sent here. She asked me to accompany her. And I may be a girl, but I can fight." Tyana told him, beginning to wish that she had gone home to Winterfell, rather than accompanying Medea.

"But how well can you fight? As well as a man?" Jon questioned her, watching her intently. He knew that she may have possibly been faster than most men, but women were naturally weaker.

"Why do you care? Do you plan to fight me?" Tyana countered, uncomfortable with being asked so many questions. It wasn't something that she was accustomed to.

Jon shook his head, "No, but Stannis's men might. Where are you from?"

Tyana bit her lip, still wanting to keep her false identity that she had assumed when they were first taken. "Stonehelm."

Jon shook his head. He hadn't believed the lie to begin with and he still didn't believe it now. "No, you're from the far north."

"How do you know that?" Tyana narrowed her eyes. Only he and Medea knew the truth about her being from the North.

"Your colouring speaks for itself." Jon told her, getting to his feet. "What is your real name, Tyana?"

"Tyana Cassel." She replied to him, knowing that there was little to no point in continuing to lie to him.

"Is Jory still alive?" Jon looked over Tyana, seeing the answer in her eyes before she shook her head in answer. "I'm sorry to hear that. And you know what Robb Stark is doing in the north?"

"Vaguely." Tyana hadn't spoken to any member of the Stark family for weeks, leaving her to know of Robb's adventures in the North through whispers and gossip.

Jon nodded slowly, "Would you support his claim?"

"Of course." Tyana glanced at him, a look of incredulity crossing her features. The Starks had raised her as one of their own; they were her family, even if they weren't her blood.

Jon nodded, "Perhaps you will return there soon."

Tyana narrowed her eyes. "Why would you let me return?"

"Your presence is needed for the girl to submit to Aegon. Once she has done so, you may leave."

* * *

Medea was thoroughly annoyed at being separated from Tyana in such a manner. She jabbed her elbow into Aegon's ribs and he groaned, picking her up and hauling her over his shoulder. He strode casually through the camp, ignoring how the men stared at their King walking through their midst with a furious dark-haired girl thrown over his shoulder.

"Put me down!" Medea exclaimed furiously, thumping at Aegon's back with small fists. "This is utterly humiliating!"

Aegon moved into another tent, which had been prepared for the Baratheon girl. He set her down, gripping her arms when she hit at him. Jon was right – she certainly was stubborn, but it was to be expected of Robert Baratheon's daughter.

"Let me go!" she cried.

"Calm down," Aegon insisted, keeping a firm grip on her wrists when she showed signs of wanting to attack him again.

Medea's blue eyes burned with fury. "You have no right to take me away from Tyana. You do not own me."

"I will soon enough," Aegon reminded her. He would marry the girl within the month, although to his consternation, he realised that even then she probably would be averse to cooperation. What would it take to get through to her?

"What if I change my mind?" Medea inquired, tossing back her dark hair and lifting her chin to meet his gaze brazenly. "There are plenty of other women you could marry. You don't need me, you don't want me. You have no sexual desire for me and I annoy you. This was an unwise idea. Just let me go to my uncle."

"No," Aegon said firmly. Sending Medea to Stannis was the worst idea he could have thought of, because that would mean two Baratheon enemies united against him. "You are my prisoner."

"Why is it me you wish to marry?" Medea folded her arms over her chest. "Why not some other pretty lady from a great house?"

"You are the only true heir to the Iron throne," Aegon reminded her – well, the only true heir besides himself. They both had legitimate claims and therefore marrying Medea and producing a son was the most logical option.

"And you actually _want_ to marry me?" Medea persisted, frowning when he nodded. "What makes you want me, dragon boy?"

Aegon moved towards her, a hint of desire in his violet eyes. "You are rather beautiful."

Medea tilted her head to the side and watched him closely, puzzled when he smirked. Of course, Aegon was nineteen years old, and like most young men he thought about making love. Perhaps that was what made her attractive to him.

"What is so amusing?" Medea demanded, a prickle of irritation running up her spine. "Sometimes I can't decide whether you want to kiss me, or kill me."

Lust glittered in Aegon's eyes before he pulled her to him and kissed her, tangling a hand in her dark hair. He did want her, more than he might care to admit. It wasn't just because she was attractive, but it was that spark, the fire within her, that made him want her all the more. Her lips parted in a gasp, but Medea did not break the kiss.

Aegon's hands found her hips and he pulled her closer against him, but Medea bit down on his lip and wrenched away from him. He hissed and spat out blood, watching as she narrowed her eyes at him. She was full of fight, this girl.

"Fiery one, you are," Aegon remarked, the metallic taste of blood still lingering strongly in his mouth.

"Does that annoy you?" Medea inquired, licking his blood off her lips as he shook her head and watched her with something like fascination. She laughed bitterly. "Fire and blood. Your house's motto."

* * *

Aegon wandered down to the cell where Stannis Baratheon paced in agitation. The dragon prince had a hand closed around Medea's wrist, dragging her down with him. She had not been pleased to discover that Aegon's forces had succeeded in taking Storm's End and imprisoning her uncle Stannis. In fact, Aegon suspected the girl might even have privately had a temper tantrum about it. She truly was childish.

"Boy." Stannis greeted curtly, snapping around to face Aegon as the sound of footsteps ricocheted off the walls. His gaze darted to Medea, and he appeared more than a little surprised to see her with Aegon. However, judging by the silver-haired young man's grip on her, she was a prisoner just like him.

"Baratheon," Aegon replied with equal stiffness.

"You seem to enjoy Baratheon company," Stannis commented, glancing once again at Medea. The girl appeared ashamed, her dark hair falling around her face. She refused to meet her uncle's gaze.

"No, I don't," Aegon said coldly.

"That might have something to do with how my brother murdered your father, I suppose," Stannis replied dryly with a shrug of his narrow shoulders.

"I plan to marry your niece," Aegon said bluntly, deciding it was best to address the topic with no preamble. Stannis watched Medea shift uncomfortably and realised that the Targaryen boy had likely bullied her into this.

"And she consented to this, did she?"

"She won't have a choice, unless she wants you dead," Aegon stated. That was another good aspect of having captured Storm's End – it gave Medea another life to think about other than simply her own.

"I thought Targaryens wed brother to sister," Stannis mused thoughtfully. "Although, there has been no sign of your aunt Daenerys or her dragons, so I suppose you can't marry her."

"Obviously." Aegon drawled, raising an eyebrow. "Besides, marrying your brat of a niece will have benefits."

"I am not a brat!" Medea exclaimed indignantly. She did not think it fair that Aegon would make judgments on her behaviour. Of course she was frustrated, she was his _captive._ Did he expect her to behave kindly?

"What benefits?" Stannis inquired.

"Then don't act like one," Aegon said to Medea, who scowled, before he turned back to Stannis. "They're for me to know."

Stannis raked a hand through his thinning hair. "I expect you think to gain the throne should her brothers die."

Aegon shrugged. "She is the only true heir."

"As are you with the Targaryen line," Stannis pointed out, as if Aegon didn't already know that. That was why his plan was going to succeed – for who could deny the heir of a Targaryen and Baratheon, the true heir and the usurper's only daughter. "Still, I don't see what you hope to achieve."

"Good. I don't want you to." Aegon seized Medea's arm and walked out of the dungeons with her in tow. Medea was beginning to worry now, and she turned and glanced at Aegon, gnawing at her lip.

"What are you going to do with him?" she demanded.

"You'll see," Aegon replied, as enigmatic as always.

* * *

Medea was in her room, pacing in agitation. She worried for her uncle, and what Aegon had planned for him. Every day brought her closer to marrying him. It was now only a week until she would marry him – but no, she couldn't. Medea refused to think of it. There had to be some form of escape. She whirled around as the door opened and Aegon sauntered in, doing nothing to improve her already irritable mood.

"You again.

"I'm going to execute your uncle," Aegon stated bluntly, causing Medea's blue eyes to widen in horror.

"What? No!" she protested. "He's in the dungeons. He poses no threat."

Aegon knew that every Baratheon with a claim to the throne was a threat. Medea was to be his, so that counted her out, but Renly and Stannis were both Robert's brothers and had a legitimate claim – which was why he needed to eliminate them.

"He does."

"No, he doesn't," Medea insisted, "Please don't."

"Why should I listen to you?" Aegon turned his sharp violet gaze upon her. "You have been nothing but rude and unpleasant since we first met, despite my efforts to be kind. I don't owe you _anything._"

"Your efforts to be kind?!" Medea repeated incredulously. Aegon had _threatened_ her into marrying him. How was that any sort of kindness?

"I did not harm you," Aegon said. Jon Connington had raised him in the belief that a man should not strike a woman. Aegon had not been speaking much to Jon of late, for his former mentor had not been impressed by the dragon prince's decision to capture the stag princess.

"And I haven't harmed you," Medea countered, heaving a sigh. "All I ask is clemency for my uncle."

"Which you won't receive," Aegon replied dismissively.

"Please," Medea found herself begging. She and Stannis had never exactly been close, but she could not just let Aegon murder her uncle. She didn't want that on her conscience when she could have prevented it. "I will behave."

Aegon examined her critically. "No, you won't. You'll back down on your word."

"I'll give you a son," Medea insisted, although the very thought of bearing Aegon's child was enough to make her shudder.

He shook his head. "You can't guarantee that."

"We are both young and virile," she continued, although still the thought of making love was one that didn't appeal to her in the slightest. "It is likely."

"Your uncle is to die." Aegon's voice was hard and would broach no argument. "Nothing will make me change my mind."

"So you would murder my family in cold blood as the Lannisters murdered yours?" Medea cried in exasperation. It seemed to her that the circle of vengeance would never stop. More and more blood was spilled, until Westeros seemed to be drowning in it. "When does it ever end? When is it enough?"

"When I have what I want," Aegon said mysteriously, his eyes betraying nothing as his lips twisted into a smirk.

"And what do you want?" Medea demanded, folding her arms over her chest. "Can you please stop being enigmatic and just tell me? Please."

Aegon shook his head. "No."

"The throne, I'm guessing," Medea said wryly, "And an heir."

"Yes," Aegon replied shortly, and Medea was prompted to start her begging once more.

"Aegon, let my uncle stay in the dungeons," she pleaded, gripping his arm. "Just please, don't kill him."

He did not look pleased, his violet eyes flashing. "If he tries anything, not even your begging will save him."

Aegon tore out of her grasp and stalked out, leaving Medea to sink onto her bed and sigh in relief, squeezing her eyes shut. She was pleased that although she could not save herself, she still had some power to save her family.


	9. Damages

**Chapter Nine: Damages**

* * *

** A/N: So this chapter is mainly Medea, but don't worry, Tyana will be around soon! This is just to focus a little more on Aegon and Medea.**

* * *

Jon Connington found Aegon in his room, sipping a wine and leaning back in his chair like he suddenly owned Westeros. In truth, Jon had not been happy to learn that Aegon intended to make Medea Baratheon his wife. The boy would be far better off marrying a worthier candidate, such as Daenerys. They could gain power from her dragons, but what would they gain from a seventeen-year-old girl, Robert's true heir?

"Yes?" Aegon inquired, looking up.

"I need to talk to you." Jon pulled up a seat, ignoring how it scraped in protest against the tiles. "About the Baratheon girl. You can't seriously intend on marrying her. You hate the girl."

"She is useful," Aegon commented, swilling his wine. He examined Jon with a frown, and Jon wondered whether Aegon now considered that he no longer needed advice. He was merely nineteen, a boy still.

Jon sighed. "You would be better off marrying your aunt Daenerys."

"Marrying Medea gives me a greater claim to the throne," Aegon argued, and Jon could immediately see his intentions as though he was transparent. If Medea bore him a son, a child of both Baratheon and Targaryen blood, then even the Lannisters could not deny its legitimacy.

"There is no certainty she will give you an heir," Jon sighed heavily, running a hand through his thinning hair. "Can you even bed a girl you do not like?"

"She is pretty," Aegon stated. It had not escaped him that Medea definitely had her father's looks, and she was quite a beauty. The whores he had slept with in past times, when he had not been under Jon's watchful eye, had not been nearly as pretty as his future wife.

"So you can bed her because she's pretty?" Jon asked incredulously, watching as Aegon nodded an affirmation. "Seven hells, Aegon. She shows every sign of not wanting to let you."

"She will submit," Aegon assured him.

Jon shook his head slowly. "She is even more stubborn than you. If she doesn't submit, what then?"

"Then I will kill her and leave her body to her family," Aegon said rather callously, leaning back in his chair as though the prospect of murdering a teenage girl did not bother him in the slightest.

"She's a girl," Jon said wearily, "She doesn't understand what you're doing. How can you expect her cooperation? Just tell her what you want, Aegon. She may be more compliant if you do."

Aegon raised an eyebrow. "Who's to say she won't become more defiant?"

"Nothing, but she's in the dark, and of course she will resist if she does not know your intentions," Jon stated, causing the younger man to sigh heavily. "You and her are very alike, actually. You are both stubborn and demanding. You took her away from her family, Aegon. She's not really angry at you, and she doesn't mean the things she says. She is afraid."

Aegon raked a hand through his silver hair. "Perhaps she should speak to me about it."

"And tell you that you frighten her?" Jon questioned, knowing that Medea was too proud to confess such a thing to Aegon. The boy looked slightly guilty, just for a moment, before he shook his head.

"I don't mean to."

"Then just talk to her," Jon insisted, feeling that he was playing the mentor role more than ever. He had never particularly had a fondness for women, but he knew how to speak to them. "Tell her what you want. Is it really that hard? Gods knows what you'd do without me to council you…"

Aegon smiled wryly. "I'd survive."

"Sometimes, I do wonder about that." Jon refrained from chuckling. "The girl could have strangled you with a cord or the like."

Aegon looked rather amused. "She could've tried.

"You have many talents. Do you know what they are?" Jon's question was met with a blank stare, which assured him that Aegon had no clue what his best weapons were, so he proceeded to explain. "You are the rightful heir to the throne, which gives you a good claim. You are more than adept with a sword. You may not view this as a gift, but you are young and handsome, as your father once was."

"Until he was killed," Aegon muttered, a hardness entering his tone as he averted his violet eyes. Jon felt a wave of sympathy for the boy. Aegon had been a mere baby when Rhaegar had been killed, so he had been deprived of the chance to know his own father. All he knew was what he'd heard from the stories he'd been told.

"Your father was one of the most loved men in this kingdom," Jon informed Aegon, causing the boy to look up.

"And you expect the people to love me as they loved him?"

"I can't and won't _expect_ them to," Jon remarked, his voice taking on the patient tone of a mentor. "I _expect_ you to prove to them why they _should_ love you."

Aegon's brow furrowed. "How should I do that?"

"Be a kind King," Jon advised him, taking the wine goblet from his hand. "Listen to the people. Don't be like Robert Baratheon and drink yourself stupid, or they will never respect you."

"I have no intention to," Aegon replied, staring hard at the goblet Jon had taken from him.

"No one ever does." Jon set the goblet out of reach. "But if you have a frigid wife and seven kingdoms to rule, you may find yourself slipping."

"She will submit," Aegon insisted. He and Medea had not gotten along so far, but after they were married, he knew he was actually required to get between her legs if he ever wanted her to bear his child.

"Will she?" Jon asked mildly. "How will you make her?"

"I have my ways," Aegon replied enigmatically, not entirely comfortable with discovering his possible sexual exploits with a man who was like a father to him.

"Seducing her, I think you mean," Jon said dryly. "She is a girl of seventeen, it may work. Don't force her if she doesn't want it at first."

"I won't," Aegon replied, the obedient response causing Jon to smile, reminded of the times he'd told the boy not to wander off, not to climb up to the crow's nest, all met with responses of 'I won't'.

"It seems you still learn from me after all."

Aegon's violet eyes flashed. "I would never force myself on a woman."

"Because of what happened to your mother?" Jon asked, rather tentatively.

"I do not wish to speak of it," Aegon near snapped, reaching for the wine goblet and taking another sip. "Please leave me in peace for a while."

"Of course, your grace," Jon said, getting to his feet and offering Aegon a slight bow before departing.

* * *

Medea sat cross-legged on her bed, writing in neat cursive to her uncle Renly. Stannis was a prisoner and could offer her no help, but perhaps if Renly discovered what had befallen her, he might try and defeat Aegon. The quill scratched across the parchment loudly, so she didn't even notice that Aegon had entered the room until he stood right in front of her.

"Medea."

"Aegon." She didn't even look up, signing off and then rolling up the piece of parchment in her hands.

"What are you doing?" Aegon frowned as he noticed the parchment in her hands. "Who are you writing to? Answer me."

"You didn't ask politely," Medea replied calmly. She was tired of being commanded by Aegon. She was not his subject, just a girl who had the misfortune of being his captive. He snatched the parchment from her and she got up on her knees, reaching out for it. "Give that back, please."

Aegon read over the letter, his lip curling, before he tore it in half. It would seem the girl was attempting to alert her family to his intentions.

"What are you doing?" Medea exclaimed.

Aegon tore the letter in half again. "You're not to write to your family."

"That's not fair," Medea protested, although she knew instantaneously how childish she must sound. Life was not fair. Her father's death had not been fair, and the events that had swept throughout Westeros during the Mad King Aerys's reign had not been particularly fair either.

"I do not wish for you to tell them what is happening," Aegon remarked, crumpling up the shreds of the letter in his hand.

"That you're making me marry you? Why not?" Medea was astonished. Her family would discover that Aegon had made her his wife sooner or later. The wedding was mere days away now, and Medea continued to dread what might lie in store for her.

"I have my reasons," Aegon replied enigmatically.

"You keep saying that!" Medea cried in frustration, before she forced herself to stay calm. "Aegon, I don't understand. If I'm to be your wife, I should at least know why. If you don't tell me right now, I won't marry you."

"You won't have a choice," Aegon informed her darkly, causing Medea to lift her chin defiantly.

"Oh, is that right?" she demanded. "I have to say the words. You can't force them from my mouth."

"No, I can't," Aegon agreed, "But it would be in your best interest to speak them."

"Or you'll do what?" Medea challenged, laughing when her words were met with silence. "If I don't cooperate, there isn't anything you can do. Unless you intend to string me up and torture me."

Aegon smirked. "No, if you don't cooperate, you become disposable."

"So you can give me back to my family," Medea insisted, not quite understanding the dragon prince's meaning.

He laughed. "I'll give you back. Whether you're breathing or not is another story."

"Do you know who you remind me of?" Medea clambered to her feet. She had heard all the stories about Aerys's madness, how he had laughed as he had killed people. She was beginning to think his grandson was much the same. "Your grandfather, Aerys. He burned people alive for defying him. I even heard that he raped and abused his poor sister-wife, Rhaella. Is it true?"

Aegon clenched his jaw. "All families have dark histories."

"Yes, but your father was a good man," Medea said mildly, "I suppose it's lucky he's not alive. He would be so disappointed."

Aegon's temper boiled over. What did this _girl_ know about his family? Yes, Aegon had been a baby when the rest of the Targaryen line save his uncle Viserys and aunt Daenerys had been wiped out, but then how could a Baratheon girl younger than he claim that she knew anything about them? The mention of his father stung the most, and Aegon struck Medea across the face with the back of his hand with enough force to make her head snap to the side, causing her to cry out.

"Don't speak about my family like you know something about them," he spat, "You know nothing."

Aegon stalked out and Medea curled on her side, ignoring the throbbing in her cheek and wondering how she would survive this marriage.


End file.
